Ti Piacera
by Saidicam2229
Summary: A little R&R when the Enterprise reached Babel *I do not know any of the Italian language, so please excuse any mistakes.


Kirk slid into the small booth next to his CMO, his First Officer across from him already perusing the menu. "I have never been so glad to deliver some cargo in my life."

"We still have to take them back," Spock reminded him.

"I know, but we made it to Babel, the delegates are all off arguing over the Coridan admission, and for the next two weeks we have nothing to do but offer a little extra security to the conference and enjoy some shore leave."

"Gonna do anything special with your parents, Spock?" McCoy asked.

"My father will no doubt be occupied with the council sessions. My mother has requested I spend time with her. I imagine I shall do so."

"I imagine you'd better," Kirk smirked, recalling Amanda's outburst in sickbay. The first of several times he'd witnessed her taking her men to task for something or another. "I don't think I'd want to be on your mom's bad side."

"I don't think that lady has a bad side, Jim."

"Doctor?" Spock asked.

"He means your mother is very beautiful, Spock," Kirk explained.

Spock stiffened indignantly. "And very married, Doctor McCoy."

"And more importantly, very in love, Mr. Spock," McCoy agreed. "I didn't mean it that way."

"How did your parents meet?" Kirk asked.

Spock sighed softly. "It would be inappropriate for me to discuss my parents' private matters."

"It's not that private," Kirk disagreed.

"You could have asked them yourself," Spock reminded him.

"Could have," Kirk agreed, "but your father kind of scares me." He laughed at the Vulcan's astonished look. "My parents met in college," he offered.

"Mine were high school sweethearts," McCoy chimed in. "Your turn, Spock."

Spock put his menu down resignedly. "My father was assigned to the Vulcan embassy on Earth as an, at the time, junior ambassador. My mother was a teacher on Earth, specializing in xenolinguistics. They were both assigned to the universal translator project."

A waitress approached and took their drink orders, quickly delivered them, then scurried off to another table. The conference had business booming.

"And that was that?" McCoy asked.

Spock glanced at the doctor as he pulled his personal PADD from his jacket pocket. "That was enough, apparently." He signed into the planet's wireless information system. "It appears the concert you spoke of is sold out for tonight, Captain."

"Is it? That's too bad. Maybe I'll catch it another night before we leave."

"I love it when these small diners post pictures of guests from the past," McCoy muttered, leaning toward the wall to better peruse them.

"I would advise you purchase your tickets soon. Options are limited."

"Thanks, Spock, I will," Kirk uttered absently as he read through the menu. "Anyone else want to split an appetizer platter?"

"I might, if you do not object to a vegetarian selection." Spock gave the doctor a cursory glance as he stood to lean over the table to get a better view of the picture selection on the wall.

"Bones, what about you?"

"Spock!" McCoy exclaimed softly, drawing the attention of both his companions. "You ever been to Babel before?"

"I have not."

McCoy pulled the small framed photograph off the wall to examine it closer.

"I do not believe that is allowed, Doctor."

McCoy placed the picture down in the middle of the table, stabbing it with his finger. "Tell me that little elf is not you!"

Three heads bent over the table. The picture showed a Vulcan male, obviously Sarek, as he had not changed much over the years, seated in a booth much like the one they were in now. Across from him was a human woman, hair much darker and shorter than she wore it now, but the resemblance to Spock's mother was irrefutable. At the end of the table, seated in a child's high chair, was a small boy. His head was turned, his small pointed ear clearly visible amidst the short dark hair. Sarek appeared to be speaking to him, and the boy's face was turned upward toward his father, his adoration clearly evident.

"I have no memory of this," Spock admitted.

"That's you?!" Kirk exclaimed, picking up the frame to take a closer look.

"Evidently," Spock murmured.

"How'd a picture of you end up in a diner halfway across the galaxy?" McCoy asked.

Spock picked up his PADD and activated the camera setting. "Precisely what I intend to ask my parents, Doctor McCoy. May I, Captain?"

Kirk placed the picture back on the table so Spock could snap a shot of it. "I don't think this was taken here. Look at the window behind them."

They looked closer. "Looks like the Bay," McCoy commented.

"San Francisco would, at least, make more sense," Spock agreed. "Still does not explain how it came to be hanging in an establishment on Babel, however."

"Excuse me," an agitated human female approached the table. "That belongs to my grandfather. You can't just move it around however you like."

"Excuse me," Spock parroted with a tinge of arrogance. "As this is a picture of my family and me, I think I could debate to whom it truly belongs."

The women snatched the picture up, looking from it back to Spock. "This is Ambassador Sarek. You are not Ambassador Sarek."

"I am not," Spock agreed. "I am, however, his son. The one pictured here."

The woman's eyes lit up. "You're Sarek and Amanda's son?"

Spock looked the woman over carefully. "Do you know my parents?"

"No, not personally. But…I've heard so many stories. My grandfather knows them…he adores them! He owned the original _Ti Piacera_ in San Francisco. He," a blush crawled over her cheeks. "He likes to take credit for their marriage."

Spock nodded, glancing at his companions uncomfortably.

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed, becoming excited. "Could you meet him? He'd love to see you."

"I don't think-"

"Please? I only live ten minutes from here, and I just moved him here with me and he absolutely hates it and it would really, really mean so much to him."

Spock frowned, looking helplessly to his human compatriots to assist. Kirk merely shrugged, hardly helpful, leaving Spock with McCoy. The doctor stared blankly back at him. Spock quirked his eyebrow meaningfully.

"It couldn't hurt, Spock."

Spock nodded slowly, turning back to the woman. "If you think it would be beneficial…"

The woman clapped her hands together. "Oh, it would! I'll be back before you finish eating, I swear. And the meals are on the house. I just can't thank you enough." She tossed out some orders to her staff to accommodate their table as she left the diner.

Spock absently pushed his meal around on his plate, glancing toward the front doors every few minutes.

"What are you brooding over, Spock?" Kirk asked, working on his own plate with enthusiasm.

"I do not understand why she feels her grandfather could benefit from speaking with me."

Kirk stabbed at another stuffed mushroom from the appetizer platter, popping it into his mouth. "She told you. She just moved him here and he misses home. It'd make him feel good to speak with someone he knew on Earth."

"I do not know him."

"He knows you," McCoy interrupted. "And he knows your parents."

Spock shook his head. "I was an infant. I have no frame of reference in which to speak with him."

"Your parents are your frame of reference." The doctor pushed the appetizer plate away from the Captain. "You eat like this the whole shore leave, Jim, and I'm putting you on a diet when we get back."

"It's just the first day," Kirk complained.

Spock stiffened as movement in his periphery made him aware of the woman's return, pushing an elderly male in a hover-chair.

"Here he is, _il nonno_."

The old man pressed the control to move his chair directly beside Spock. He leaned forward, studying him, weathered eyes squinting with concentration. He blindly reached for the picture on the table, which Kirk pushed within his reach. He held the picture up, comparing it to Spock, then set it back upon the table.

"It has been many years, Sir-" Spock's eyes widened with alarm as the old man placed an unsteady hand against his cheek.

" _Bambino_ ," he whispered reverently. "So big," he murmured, softly patting Spock's cheek. "So strong." He smiled widely. "Like _padre_!" he laughed.

Spock released a pent up breath. "Indeed. I understand you knew my parents."

" _Si_. Your parents…so in love," he smiled fondly, "so in love."

"You'll have to excuse my grandfather," the woman apologized to Spock. "I'm afraid he's an old romantic." She bend down to her grandfather's level. "Sarek is Vulcan, Papa. Do not anthropomorphize."

The old man waved her off. "Vulcan…human… What matters is man," he held his hands up, palms facing each other, a foot apart, "and woman." He pressed his palms together, lacing his fingers, and laughed.

I tend to agree, Sir," Kirk added. Spock crossed his arms, glaring at his shipmates who joined in the old man's merriment. "Tell us, what were Spock's parents like back then?"

"Jim," Spock complained.

"Ah," the old man's eyes lit up. " _Mi danno il mio sacco_." His granddaughter retrieved a satchel from a compartment on the back of his chair and handed it to him, as requested. "Sarek...such a good boy."

"Sir," Spock interjected in defense of his father. "Sarek is older than you are."

The old man waved him off. "He came to _Ti Piacera_ every week, once a week, for many months. Alone. Sometimes he'd eat – drinks lots of tea. Sometimes he'd bring work, but mostly he just watched people."

Despite his earlier objections, Spock found himself settling back against the booth, fascinated by the old man's story, as well as the animated way he gestured while telling it.

"Then, one day, he brings a woman with him." He brought the fingers of one hand together, raised them to his mouth and kissed them. " _Bellissima_!" he exclaimed. "But…they just work." He again made the shooing gesture, clearly indicating his opinion of that development. "Every week he brings her, months of this. He buys her food and drinks, but they work. Sometimes other men buy her drinks, he says nothing. Sometimes other men come to diner to pick her up, to take her out. He says nothing." He slapped the table lightly with his palm. "So one day I watch him watch her leave and I says to him, I says…Sarek, what are you doing? You have a beautiful girl. Why you let her leave with other men? I says, maybe you don't know what to do with beautiful girl."

"What'd he say?" McCoy asked when the man seemed to trail off, lost in his memories.

"What'd he say….he says I'm illogical. He says it's not his concern what she does. But," he taps his temple with his index finger. "I see things." He opened his satchel and rummaged through several dozen pictures. Selecting one he puts it upon the table and taps it. "The camera sees things."

Spock waited while the Captain and McCoy took turns examining the photo. Neither made any comment. Spock took the photo from McCoy, almost hesitant to look. It showed Sarek sitting in a booth. Amanda was walking away with a human male, his arm around her waist. She was slightly turned with her hand raised, possibly saying goodbye. Sarek watched them, seemingly benign, but Spock knew better. His eyes held an intensity, his jaw taut…a look of intense displeasure Spock could only recall seeing once, when he had announced his plans to join Star Fleet.

The old man continued to scan through his pictures. "This goes on a few weeks. Then, one night, he brings her, not his normal night. This is new, I think to myself. I see her begin to pull out work, but he stops her. She puts it back, and they did no work that night. Then he brings her more and more often, and they do less and less work." He puts the remaining pile upon the table, letting them speak for themselves.

"These are not all of my parents?" Spock asked in disbelief, thumbing through the dozens of photographs.

"They are a beautiful couple," the old man reiterates.

Spock selected a portion of the photos to look through. One showed his parents in a booth, leaning across the table as they spoke. Sarek's hand reached across the expanse to grasp hers. In another they appeared to be leaving, and Sarek was assisting Amanda with her jacket. His hands rested on her shoulders. She was looking back at him, he down at her, their eyes locked indefinitely on ink and paper. He glanced up at his friends, who were looking through some of the other photographs, smiles on their faces.

The old man caught Spock's attention. "Do you want to know how I knew they were going to get married?"

"How?" Spock indulged him.

He grinned back at him. "When he brought her in for dinner one night, then brought her back the next morning for breakfast."

There was an eruption of chuckles around the table. Spock's eyebrow raised, his lips pressed thin with disapproval. He avoided McCoy's gaze.

"I says to him," he again touched his fingertips of one hand together, this time shaking the hand up and down. "What are you doing back so soon? He says, we are hungry. So I says, ah…then you do know what to do with a beautiful girl."

"Papa," the woman chided him.

"And then what?" McCoy encouraged him, watching the First Officer closely.

The old man slapped the table, then gestured toward Spock. " _Bambino_!"

Spock shook his head resolutely ignoring the reactions around him. "I assure you the ' _bambino_ ' came at a much later, and entirely appropriate, time."

"Of course it did," the woman defended him. "And on that note, it's time to take you home." She started to collect the photographs together.

"No, no," he stopped her. He gestured to Spock. "Take them. Give them to your _padre_."

"My father would have no use for them. Vulcans do not keep such things," Spock informed him. "But, thank you," he added as an afterthought.

"Then your _madre_. Please."

Spock hesitated.

"I think they'd mean a lot to her, Spock," McCoy encouraged him.

He looked to Jim, who nodded. "You should take them."

"Very well," he agreed quietly. "I shall see she receives them. Thank you."

Sarek pulled the screening to the private dining table closed, then slid into the booth next to his wife.

Amanda glanced around their surroundings. "I've always liked these little egg tables. Cocoons, or whatever you'd call them." She picked over their plates of native Babel fruits, selecting some she knew Sarek would like. She sat on her legs to better match her husband's height.

Sarek swiped the table in front of him, browsing through the virtual menu. "Did you have a satisfying day?"

"Um-hmm. I had a spa day. Here," she popped a piece of fruit into his mouth, surprising him.

"Such service, my wife," he grabbed her hand before she could pull it away.

She grinned at his teasing. "You are convalescing, my husband. And I know you don't eat when you're at these councils. Enjoy it while I'm feeling generous."

"I shall," he promised her. "I must confess I…find that now, with my heart condition repaired, my…appetite is returning quite ferociously." He sucked some remaining fruit juice from her fingertips.

"Good," she said sincerely, pulling her hand away to pick up a chunk of fruit for herself. "You know, you got done so early today, Spock and his friends won't be here for at least another hour. Go ahead and order a little something now. I'm sure they won't mind."

"Amanda," he said patiently.

She looked at him, chewing her food thoughtfully. "What?" She frowned when he just slowly raised an eyebrow. "Ooh," she gasped, blushing as she understood his innuendo. "I mean… Oh?" she said lightly, attempting a flirtatious air.

He reached out to cup her face, drawing her lips to his.

"Oh!" Kirk hissed, causing the couple to break apart quickly.

"Captain Kirk," Amanda hastily greeted, attempting to regain her composure.

"I'm sorry." He looked at the Ambassador. "I'm so sorry."

Bones grinned, slipped in past Jim, and took a seat on Amanda's side. "Hello," he greeted them pleasantly.

"Doctor," Sarek nodded toward him.

"We can leave," Jim offered.

"Of course not," Amanda insisted. "We were expecting you."

"Fifty four point three minutes from now," Sarek muttered darkly.

"We can come back," Kirk offered, still suspended in a half-sitting position over the bench.

Sarek looked him askew. "Stay or go, Captain Kirk, but kindly make a decision."

"Sit," Amanda instructed him. "Where's Spock?"

"He'll be along in a minute," Kirk said, settling uncomfortably next to the Ambassador. "Had to go back for something he forgot in his cabin."

"Glad to see you're feeling better, Sarek," McCoy stopped perusing his menu to address his patient. "I'd…just advise you to take it easy when you decide to start," he glanced at Spock's mother, "exercising."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" Amanda asked worried. "Should he refrain from…exercising?"

"No…exercising…should be safe as long as he takes it easy. Those are fresh repairs in those valves. Don't wanna stress them too much."

Amanda frowned, glancing toward her husband. "What if Sarek isn't one to ever…'take it easy' when he…exercises?"

"Amanda," Sarek objected.

McCoy's eyebrow raised in perfect imitation of his First Officer. "In that case…I guess just do the best you can, and if there's any discomfort stop immediately and contact me."

The screening opened as Spock slipped in to take a seat by his Captain, forcing Kirk to move even closer to Sarek. "Forgive my tardiness," he apologized.

"You are quite early, my son."

Spock nodded at his father. "When our security team stationed at the debates notified us it had concluded early, and my call here confirmed you and mother had already checked in for endmeal, I assumed you would want to move our dinner up accordingly in case they decide to recall you early."

"Of course," Sarek acknowledged Spock's logic.

"How is council progressing?"

"As expected. The Tellarites filibuster, the Saurians yell, the Andorians argue, and," he picked up Amanda's hand to show his son her newly manicured nails, "your mother wastes the clan coffers on her vanity," he teased.

"Wastes," Amanda exclaimed with mock indignation. "I think I was getting the exact effect I paid for," she teased back. "Wouldn't you say so, Captain Kirk?"

"I…uh…" he stammered. "Spock, why don't you show your parents what you brought."

"Certainly." Spock held out the folder containing the pictures, then hesitated. "We are at an establishment last evening called _Ti Piacera_."

" _Ti Piacera_ ," Sarek questioned. "I was unaware there was such on Babel."

"Yes, and we were visited by the family patriarch, whom I believe you are acquainted with."

"Your father knew him pretty well," Amanda confirmed.

"He asked me to give you this." He handed over the folder then waited, watching for their reaction.

His parents looked at each other, equally puzzled. Amanda took the folder and pulled out its contents. "On my," she muttered, looking through page after page of her documented courtship. "Sarek, look."

"I see them."

"They're beautiful."

"They are an invasion of privacy," he said sharply.

She turned to him, frowning. "They're our memories."

"I don't need someone photographing me without my knowledge to preserve my memories."

Her frown deepened. She turned back to the pictures. "Well I do." She went back to looking through the pictures.

Sarek sighed softly. "Perhaps we should place our orders, gentlemen." The men occupied themselves with their menus.

"Mother?"

Sarek glanced up hearing the concern in his son's voice. Amanda head was down, her hand blocking her face as much as possible, but it could not hide her emotionalism. "Amanda," he softly reprimanded.

"Don't," she warned him.

He leaned forward to see what she had been looking at. In this photo, unlike the others, they were not sitting in the diner. They had already departed, had been walking past the large windows their booth sat in front of, and had mistakenly thought they were completely alone. They were viewed in profile, partially obscured in shadows. Amanda was looking down at Sarek, who was looking up at her from his position on one knee. The night he had, according to Terran tradition, offered to share his life with her. He leaned closer to her. "It was one night, Amanda. One moment…out of a lifetime together."

"It was the beginning."

"Yes," he agreed.

"Doesn't feel like a lifetime has passed already."

"It has not."

She leaned into him, the fatigue of the past several days finally weighing on her. "It almost had."

Sarek grimaced at the reminder of his near death. "Yes," he hesitantly agreed.

"Then these would have been all I'd have left."

His arm came up to pull her closer, supporting her. He pulled the folder of pictures closer. "Then they are, indeed, deserving of careful consideration. Together."

The End


End file.
